


Glad to Be Home

by knightswhosay



Category: DCU, DCU Animated, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswhosay/pseuds/knightswhosay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tender moment between Artemis and Wally after her return from undercover. Not in continuity with the last several episodes of Invasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glad to Be Home

“Babe?”

“Hmm?” Wally followed the sound of her voice until he reached the bathroom door. The door had been cracked open, probably by the pooch who now sat before the bathtub, his tail wagging as she scratched him behind the ears.

“May I?”

She smiled. It was one of the golden smiles, the ones he had missed even more than her smirks, the ones rarer than a white Christmas in the desert. “I think we’re past asking to walk in on the other.”

“Well,” he shuffled into the room, “may I join your bath?”

“Is the tub big enough for the both of us?”

“We’ve managed before.”

She tossed her head back and laughed throatily. “I guess we have. But it’s been a long time. Too long.”

Accepting this as his answer, he quickly shed his red t-shirt and shorts, piling them with her discarded clothes (sweats and matching dark green bra and panties—a gift from Zee). He slid into the water, lukewarm from her already long soak.

Noticing his expression, she asked, “More hot water?” He nodded. She started reaching toward the faucet, but his hand caught hers in his. Together, they turned on the hot water tap. With water pouring from the faucet, Wally brought their hands to his mouth, where he kissed the knuckles of her hands. Smiling, she untwined their fingers, but kept their palms together. In an action mirroring a younger child and a parent, they lined up their fingers, thumb to thumb, pinkie to pinkie. His hands were built up since childhood. Her other hand went to his face, fingers running against stubble fondly. He grinned, roguishly.

“I could go get candles? Maybe one of the few frozen dinners we have left?”

That same hand pulled at his scarlet hair. “Don’t ruin the mood, Wall-man.”

Then his larger hands cupped her face and he kissed her until he was out of breath. A thumb moved to stroke her plump lips, his other hand moving down to her collar bones, out to her shoulders, down to her hand, which he held for a moment. “I missed you.” His voice resonated in the small room.

“I know. I missed me too.” Her words were painful, not because he expected her to confess that she missed him in turn—he wasn’t a teenager anymore; actions could speak louder than words—but because, undercover, she couldn’t be herself. She couldn’t be Artemis. In the past few years, she had faced more difficulties than him, more difficulties than just being parted from a loved one. Not that that wasn’t difficult, in and of itself.

His hands reunited at her chest, each holding one of her breasts, but instead of squeezing, instead of doing something to arouse her or himself, something he had done more times than he could count, he merely stroked from one end of a scar to the other. It took him a long time. There were a lot of scars, even on a limited area of her body. Then his hands went to the slight swell of her belly. He could imagine the baby pulsing, growing in her womb as mitosis took off where meiosis left off (she would laugh if he told her his thoughts, or maybe hit him; probably both).

His hands traveled to her thighs. They were strong, stronger even than they had been before they retired (“retired” in their twenties; who does that? Doomed from the start, it could never last). Her knees were still bony though, as bony as dead trees, as bony as her elbows his ribs were all too familiar with. Her calves were strong too, beautifully shaped. Long and graceful her legs gave her the appearance of great height, height unattainable with an Asian heritage.

He heard a giggle, then a growl. “Wally, you know better than to touch my feet.”

He grinned, “Do I now?” and started tickling her feet.

In a moment, he found her sitting atop his chest with his arms pinned beneath him. “You’ve gotten really good.”

“I’ve had too, to survive, but I’ve always been good.” He frowned. “Wally, its okay.” She shook his shoulders until he looked up into her face. “Wally, I’m glad to be home.”


End file.
